Sugar-Coated Spooks
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: There are many riddles and mysteries in the world, but not all of them are as ominous and ghoulish as these. A collection of Drabbles for Lamia's Weird Prompt Speed Drabble Challenge.
1. Reflections

#1: Reflections - Lockhart/Dolores

* * *

_[Trapped in a world, that's a distorted reality.]_

There was something unusually reflective between them. A pair of sickeningly sweet manipulators; it was only natural that they would be peculiarly attracted to one another.

(Words couldn't describe the strangeness she felt towards him. He was curiously dazzling, and he looked simply marvellous in that quilted, salmon coloured blazer)

Could it be possible her ego was bigger than his?

No, surely not.

"Let's go to bed, Dolores," Gilderoy purred softly to his secret lover.

Dolores smiled up at him falsely, and chortled. "With pleasure."


	2. Duality

#2: Duality - Sybill/Minerva

* * *

_[I have screamed until my veins collapsed, I've waited as my time's elapsed.]_

The days after Umbridge publically humiliated Sybill were always difficult.

It was like there she was walking down a secluded path, and a hole suddenly emerged in her way. She could jump over it. She could avoid it. But she always let herself fall in.

Everything was a deep, dark depression. Nothing but venomous anger and dislike for herself overwhelmed, and nothing she would do could get her out of the hole.

But then Minerva came along. Minerva was the light, the ladder, the way to the top.

Recovery was difficult, but Minerva made it possible.

And Sybill had never seen Minerva look so beautiful.


	3. Bloody Euphoria

#3 Bloody Euphoria - Greyback/Petunia

* * *

_[I love you for always driving me insane, __I'll bleed you dry now]_

Blood.

Deep, crimson red blood _– everywhere_.

In her hair, across her pasty, wan white skin, on his hands.

He was painting her blood across her canvas as he ravished her, smearing her warm plasma over her delicate, transparent skin as he buried his mouth and teeth into her delicious neck. The taste, and the feel of the woman made him groan with rapture.

Even though there were wounds all over her body from Greyback's harsh teeth, Petunia rolled her head back in euphoria; she had never felt more alive.

(In a world where Petunia was deemed to live a normal, mundane life, this encounter couldn't have come at a better time.

She longed to give herself to the werewolf – all of herself.

So she did.)


	4. Crushing

#4 - Rodolphus/Draco

* * *

_[Forever is a long time, but I wouldn't mind spending it by your side.]_

Draco had always held a soft spot for his marital uncle. Rodolphus was tall and limber, with long hair, the shade of the shiniest ebony, and a dusting of dark stubble, which suited him immaculately.

At night he struggled with strange, sexual dreams that included his aunt's husband. He always woke up frustrated and confused, sweat cascading down his spine, his blonde hair raked back with his fingernails.

Secretly, he longed to open up to Rodolphus; confess his flustered thoughts to him and hope, desperately hope that he felt the same way.

But Rodolphus had Bellatrix, so his efforts would be all in vain.


	5. The Tempest

#5 - The Tempest: Bellatrix/Nymphadora

* * *

_[There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.]_

"Are we really going to do this, Auntie?" Nympadora whispered, over the crashing waves below.

"Yes, child."

Everyone important to them had died. Bellatrix had lost her master, and thus she had nothing left to live for anymore. Nymphadora lost her husband in the war that Bellatrix played a part in. While they knew, outwardly, that they should hate each other, they couldn't help it. Fate brought them together. It was disgusting, foul and completely perverse. While they should have been at each other's throats; they were instead wrapped up in each other, unable to get enough of the other.

And now it had gone too far. Neither could handle the shame – this was Nymphadora's aunt; it was _incest_. Bellatrix could care less about her relative attachment to Nymphadora; her shame hung because Nymphadora was the daughter of her blood-traitor sister – Ted Tonks' dirty blood ran through her veins.

It had to end.

This led them to their secluded spot at the tip of Seaford Head, looking down the white cliff front, to the stormy sea of the English Channel. They had met here before to rendezvous – but this would be the last time.

Bellatrix held out her hand to her niece, and as Nymphadora took it, her features changed. Vibrant pink hair fell into a fluid, oily-black waterfall, and her cheerful, rounded face became sallow and sombre.

The earth seemed to stop as they shared one last, terribly wrong kiss. Together, they stepped off the edge of the cliff, and plummeted to their deaths in the tempestuous depths below.


	6. Saving Grace

#6 - Saving Grace: Harry/Minerva

* * *

_[How can we know the dancer from the dance?]_

Professor McGonagall had certainly done this dance before, Harry could tell. He wasn't even aware that he possessed a fluctuating feeling for her, until he found himself watching her swooping around the empty great hall, in the arms of his best friend, Ron.

She was showing him the steps for the dance they would perform at the Yule Ball. Previously, Harry hadn't believed that anyone truly knew how to dance, but this was untrue, obviously. McGonagall was a natural goddess, the way she whirled around the hard floor, her dark, emerald coloured robes flowing out around her. Her skin, wrinkled eyes, and grey hair proclaimed that she was an elderly woman…

…But her soft, graceful movements could be mistaken for that of a girl.


	7. Fruitless Lust

#7 - Fruitless Lust: Voldemort/Bellatrix

* * *

_[It only hurts when you start pretending that it doesn't.]_

He was lonely, a solitary figure in the shadows of a dim, gloomy tunnel. Misconceived; a corrupted character with an unpleasant heart, and even more insidious agenda.

She was lonely too, but in a different way. There were people she could call family, but there was nothing left for them to offer her. Pleasure was found only in satisfying her master. A deranged persona lurked within her interior; a crazed concern for no one but herself and her beloved Lord.

Voldemort had no love in his empty, cold grey heart for Bellatrix, even though hers pumped with lust and desperation for him. She was a tool to be used for his imminent destruction – but he couldn't deny that her skills varied much further afield than just on the battleground...

Their nights were spent clenching each other by candlelight; pouring their secret woes and lonely anguish into the other. Bellatrix could pretend that their rough, indecent love making was more than him evidently manipulating her; she could cling to her master and throw her head back in rapture—

But when those three, shocking words escaped hr lips, he would push her aside in disgust.

Voldemort didn't desire to be loved. Love was an unnecessary emotion – one that he could very much do without.


	8. Marital Secrets

#8 - Marital Secrets: Bellatrix/Petunia

* * *

_[The first breath of adultery is the freest; after it, constraints aping marriage develop.]_

It was during Lily's wedding reception that Petunia first saw Bellatrix.

Bellatrix met all the typical witch-like requirements. Tall, with thick, ebony hair that spiralled down to her waist, and large dark eyes, with heavy hooded eyelids and thick, long lashes. She was clad head to toe in black, despite being at a wedding, and stood with her arms folded across her chest, smirking around the room.

Her presence was captivating, and Petunia was forced to ignore her husband's protests as she watched this woman crook her finger to the bride.

The older sister followed the pair quietly, and soon found herself lurking in the doorway, watching ahead as Bellatrix pressed Lily against the wall with her weight, taking a lock of her long auburn hair, and swirling it around her fingers. To Petunia's shock, the dark-haired witch crashed her lips against Lily's, causing the latter to gasp involuntarily into her mouth. They kissed heatedly for a few minutes, but when Bellatrix's pointed nails fingered their way down to Lily's breast, she pulled away. "I'm _married_ now," she murmured, panting heavily. Anger sparkled in Bellatrix's eyes, and for a moment Petunia expected retaliation – but instead she stepped back.

"Then get out of my sight," she hissed, pointing to the doorway, where Petunia stood. Lily ran, hitching her ivory skirts around her knees, and collided with her sister.

"P…Petunia…" she whispered. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't wait for a reaction, choosing instead to barge past her.

Bellatrix loomed forwards towards Petunia, humour evident on her face. It was only then that Petunia realised she was holding her breath, and that something unusual was stirring in the pit of her stomach. The witch reached out a skeletal hand, and stroked Petunia's bony face, slowly.

"Did you enjoy the show, muggle girl?"

Petunia didn't answer. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her blood was pounding in her ears. Bellatrix hovered forward, until Petunia could feel the breath on her lips. "Come with me, Lily's sister. I'll show you how to have a good time."


	9. Venomous

#9: Venomous - Bellatrix/Alecto

* * *

_[Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.]_

Alecto _hated _Bellatrix.

Having grown up within a patriarchal environment, Alecto wasn't used to another woman on the scene. When she joined the Dark Lord's ranks, she had visions of being the First Lady; the vicious, background bitch – the one the Dark Lord would call his most _faithful _servant.

However, it seemed like Bellatrix got there first – and Alecto despised that. She hated that she was lumbered with her brother most of the time, and was never truly a part of the 'circle'.

Alecto also hated the dreams that woke her in the night.

She hated the ghostly feel of Bellatrix's lips against her skin; palms cascading down Alecto's limbs. Their soft bodies against each other, and the warmth that Bellatrix emitted. She hated the way Bellatrix got into her _head_, and nothing, nothing Alecto could do would get her out.

It was the dreams that Alecto hated most of all.


	10. Body Language

#10: Body Language - Umbridge/Percy

**Word Count: **333

* * *

_[She sees you when you__'re sleeping, she knows when you're awake.]_

Percy looked up from his paperwork as a knock sounded on the door to his office. "Come in," he called tiredly. As the door opened, he pushed his spectacles up onto his forehead and rubbed his strained eyes. When he looked over at the door, his vision was swimming, but a familiar lump of salmon pink robes was visible, along with the overpowering smell of flowery perfume.

"Miss Umbridge," he greeted politely as Dolores took a seat in front of his desk. "How can I help you?"

"I just thought I would pop in and greet the Senior Undersecretary today," Dolores simpered. "And, I need to request a private meeting with Cornelius."

Percy put down his quill and sighed. Even though Cornelius generally accepted meetings with Dolores at the drop of a hat, he had been quite insistent that no meetings were to occur today. "My apologies, Miss Umbridge," he replied. "But the Minister isn't taking any meetings today."

Dolores's smile faltered. "Call me Dolores, _please_." She paused, before standing up from her seat and wandering around the desk. She placed her hands on Percy's shoulders, and used her short, fat fingers to begin to massage him roughly. Percy stared straight ahead, unsure of how to react. "You're very tense today - Percy, is it?"

"Yes," Percy answered quietly.

"You should allow me to loosen you up a little," Dolores continued in her sickeningly sweet voice. The scent of her equally sickeningly sweet perfume was almost unbearable in Percy's nostrils, but he was beginning to find the shoulder massage quite pleasant. She was right - he had been rather tense.

She stopped her ministrations, and Percy turned around in his seat to look up at her. "W-what do you mean?"

Dolores smiled; a wide, toothy smile. "Oh, let me explain it to you," she paused and leaned over him, placing a hand on the arm of his desk chair. "With body language."


	11. Exquisite

#11: Exquisite - Lucius/Rita

**Word Count: **216

* * *

He hates the way that everything about Rita is so wrong, but somehow so right. Her supple curves seem to fit every groove in his palms, and her stiff, lacquered curls smell oddly divine. She is the complete opposite of Narcissa, who alludes a snow queen. Narcissa is cold to touch and making love to her is like trying to thaw out an ice sculpture.

_(She moans, arching her back as she rocks on top of him. He's mesmerised by her confidence, the way she doesn't care about her naked form. Her breasts bounce and he cups them with his hands, enjoying the sounds that escape her lips at his touch.)_

He hates the way that he really dislikes her, but somehow he keeps crawling back to her boudoir. He hates the sideways, red-lipped smirk she gives him when she answers the door. He hates the vice-like grip of her lime green fingernails as she yanks him into the house.

_(Her fingernails claw across his chest, leaving red welts that he knows Narcissa will question later. But in the moment he doesn't care; the pain is exquisite because _she _gave it to him. "Lucius," she gasps, bucking her hips faster. He knows she is reaching her peak, and this is the part he loves the most.)_


End file.
